


Junkball

by grand_mephy



Series: Friendship Fragments [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Spoilers, Sport Catharsis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grand_mephy/pseuds/grand_mephy
Summary: [NDRV3 SPOILERS]Tennis was more than a sport.It was losing.They train in his study center.





	Junkball

 

 

 

 

 

 

_**junkball:** _  
_A shot or return stroke in which the ball tends to be slow and possibly also without spin; often introduced unpredictably to upset the flow of the game and the rhythm of the opposition._

 

 

 

 

 

"Man, I remember when I used to play tennis. Everyone in the club knew you, you were this god of tennis or something, someone we always looked up to and watched on TV and stuff."

Hoshi frowns, somewhat lost for words.

"That's... nice."

"It gave me a _great_  idea," Momota continues. "As in, you and I should totally play once we get outta here!"

"... I don't do that anymore."

"Huh? But aren't you the SHSL Tennis Pro?"

"Hmph, that's what I used to be," Hoshi reminds him. "But now, even with that title, I don't hold the same passion for tennis as I once did."

Momota scoffs. In the dining room, where no one else is around, it echoes in the walls. "Bullshit. Everybody's passionate about their talents! Don't tell me killing the mafia took that away from you!"

Hoshi stares into his unfinished meal. Pan-fried chicken and carrots. His fork screeches against ceramic. "You don't get it. The mafia took  _everything_  from me. Those I cared about... and who I used to be. There's no use salvaging that part of my life."

Momota slumps. The chair groans. "Like I'll believe that... You can't know until you try. Hell, volunteering to die for our sakes... What're you, a martyr?"

Beanie pulled down, Hoshi stares at him.

"... H-Hey, don't look at me like that! Just play with me, dammit!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tennis was more than a sport, it was a battle. The slip and slide of sneakers on clay, grass, concrete. An arena of conflict. Foe against foe. Winning, the goal. Winning, the drive.

What about now? Where's that drive?

... He wants to see it.

"If you watch that video," Shirogane says, wringing her hands, "it'll become a motive for you, won't it..?"

Hoshi looks up at her, unblinking. "That's exactly why I wanna watch mine."

What'll it have? What could it possibly have? Not tennis, no. Not his family, his friends, his girlfriend. Who, what, could be waiting for him outside? Unless... there's a reason why he can't stay here.

Give him that reason.

Give it.

"Don't spout that kind of shit," Momota says, brusque as ever. "Man... you really don't want to live at all, do you? I guess it can't be helped... but Hoshi!" He stomps over to him, veins popping, knuckles so white they could burst out of skin. "We're all trying to do our damn best to stay alive! So give it a rest and do your best too, you goddamn zombie!"

Hmph. Is that what he is now? A walking corpse...

"I can't help it, if that's what you think of me..." Hoshi tilts his chin. "But I've got no plans of changing my mind. That wouldn't be cool of me at all, would it?"

"Th-The hell did you just say..?!"

Ouma sighs, "It's fine, isn't it? Hoshi-chan's just stating his own opinion."

Hoshi looks away. Care, don't care — he stands on that razor's edge.

So give it to him... give him that reason.

A drive, a reason to live...

 

 

* * *

 

 

His intercom rings incessantly. Hoshi stumbles to the door wondering who it could be, his calves are tense, he thinks he can dodge pretty well even in his sleep-deprived state... when Momota pops into view with a wide-ass grin.

"Hey! Hope I didn't wake you or anything!"

Oh. Hoshi cranes his head. "What do you want?"

"Man, don't be harsh. I just came here to tell you... Me and Saihara are gonna use your study center for training tonight."

Hoshi raises a brow. "Training? You're doing something like that in this tense situation?"

"Yeah, it's a good way to raise our spirit! I wanted to train under the stars but I figured it'd be good to brush up on my tennis skills." Suddenly, Momota says, "Hey! You should come too!" in a way that sounds scripted, like he came up with the idea long before he knocked on Hoshi's door.

Either way, Hoshi had a feeling he'd be invited. So he rejects the offer, prompting the taller male to scoff.

"C'mon, what's the harm?" Momota says. "You can teach us your secret techniques. Like when to do a junkball and shit."

Junkballs. Tricky little devils. Hoshi's lip curls. "How many times do I have to say 'no'? You'll be fine, you obviously know a good deal about tennis."

"But I wanna beat you!"

He doesn't take the bait. "Leave me alone, Momota. I told you, it's in the past."

Hand on his head, Momota lets out a long suffering sigh. "Still a fucking sissy, huh..."

Hoshi shuts the door on him.

Seriously. What a rude guy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Oh, it's you, Saihara."

"Ah, Hoshi-kun... Are you on your way to the cafeteria?"

Hoshi chuckles. "If I went there now, I'd just be making the mood worse." He's well aware of the effect his words had on the others yesterday. He doesn't side with Ouma, he would never associate himself with someone so troublesome, but if he goes to breakfast, that's likely what the others will think. Something he definitely doesn't need early in the morning.

So he decides to go for a stroll, when Saihara says, tentatively, "Hey, Hoshi-kun... I know I can't even imagine what you've been through in the past... and I know you probably hear things like "don't give up living" all the time, but..." Saihara looks up. "I think there are good things to be found by staying alive."

Hoshi hums. "Good things, huh... you mean stuff like wishes, hopes, and dreams coming true, don't you? If that's the case, then that'd have nothing to do with someone like me, who's got none of those things, right?"

Saihara frowns. "But can't you find those things here? Good things... like friends?"

Hoshi appraises him for a moment. "Is that what you found?"

"... Eh?"

"What, you didn't notice it? You're almost like a different person, compared to yesterday." An aura of solidity, that Hoshi's used to seeing — has seen, in his tennis opponents. "I don't think you came to that on your own. That's why I'm asking."

Saihara smiles. "Ah, well, I trained last night with Momota-kun. It was pretty intense."

"Hmph, so it was him..." In the terse silence, Saihara fidgets with the brim of his cap. "Something else you wanna say to me?" Hoshi asks.

"I-It's nothing, really," Saihara stammers. "Just that, the enemy you're facing... maybe you can face it by getting stronger. With Momota-kun and I."

Enemy? Hoshi can't help but smile. "He's really made an impression on you, huh? For all his bluster, I can't fault that. After all... you look like you're feeling a lot better now."

Then he adds, "But training with you guys, in this kind of situation... that won't help me at all."

Hoshi moves past him, footsteps light and airy. Cool wind brushes his ears. The caged outside beckons his lonely self.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He's sipping on milk when Momota intercepts him. Hoshi doesn't know why but it reminds him of those golden days. The player on the other side of the net stomping around, footsteps gasping on the court. It's how Momota carries himself. How he corners him.

"Hoshi! We're going training! I'm not taking 'no' for an answer!"

Hoshi tugs his beanie. "Hmph... you're annoyingly persistent..."

"Course I am! You have to be to overcome your hardships! Now come on, we gotta pick up Shuuichi on the way!"

Shuuichi..? Hoshi hums. "I'm surprised you two got so close after only a few of days."

"That doesn't matter right now! We've gotta train in your study center now while the sun's up, 'cause pushups are reserved for the stars!" Momota bumps his fists. "So hurry up, don't waste my time!"

"Don't waste mine," Hoshi shoots back. "I told you, I'm nothing but a shadow of my former self. Tennis... it's behind me. You've seen Monokuma's taunt. I'm basically the SHSL Prisoner, underneath it all."

"So what? That's like saying me being a trainee doesn't make me an astronaut!"

"It doesn't," Hoshi points out.

"Sh-Shut up! Point is, I know you wanna live!" Momota scoffs. "So it pisses me off that you're just wandering around, doing nothing... So what if you don't have a special someone out there?" he swipes a hand to the general outside. "Ain't it enough to make do with us? To eat with us, have fun with us, escape with us?"

Hoshi meets his gaze. "You're saying that, in a game where any one of us can be killed at any given moment."

Momota juts his jaw. "All the more reason to live."

Hoshi pauses.

"... What's your goal here?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You became Saihara's friend after Akamatsu died. So I'm wondering if that's what you see in me... someone who needs to be cheered up."

Momota huffs. "Don't overthink it, idiot. Can't a guy ask a pro to help with training? I'm telling you, it'll be good for all three of us! We have to get strong if we want to get out of here. Hell, I gotta get to space!"

Hoshi chews hard on his black candy. No matter what, Momota really is obnoxious... And yet, "You won't stop until I say yes, won't you?"

"I mean otherwise, I'll just pick you up like a ragdoll!"

Beanie pulled down, Hoshi stares at him.

"... S-Seriously, I was kidding! Cut it out! You look really creepy!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tennis was more than a sport, it was an art form. A dance of feet, and arms, and sweat. The racket became an extension of your body. A weapon to wield in a performance of precision.

Hoshi can track it in how they return shots from the automated ball machines. He expected Saihara to be bad, and it really shows in the Detective's clumsy footwork. His swings are weak too, no force behind them, no general rhythm to his play. It's almost embarrassing.

... Maybe not as embarrassing as Momota.

"TAKE THAT!!! AND THAT!! C'mon, Shuuichi, put some work into it! Hit it like  _this_! WHOOP—AAHHH!!!"

Hoshi leans back on the raised umpire's chair and tries not to cringe. Well. Despite Momota's yelling, he's faring a lot better than his so-called assistant, who gasps, "Timeout!" as he sinks to his knees.

"Can't do that unless you've got an injury, Shuuichi!"

"B-But my body hurts all over..!"

With that, they take a break. "How 'bout it, Hoshi," Momota says as after a long drink of water. "Shuuichi's got a long way to go, but I'm pretty good!"

"Hmph," Hoshi chuckles. "I admit, your footwork isn't half bad. But, if you wanna play optimally, you can't go around yelling all the time. You'll waste too much of your energy."

"Hey, yelling is how you psyche yourself up! It works, just ask Chabashira!"

"I'd rather not," Hoshi says with a pointed look. He catches Saihara smiling at him in his periphery, looking more pleased than he's comfortable with, and adds, "I think that's enough for today. Or any other time. You two are on the right track, anyhow."

"Don't say that," Momota huffs. "Tennis training is our thing. 'Sides... you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"... Did I now."

Momota staggers to his feet. "I'm gonna wash my face," he says. Without looking at either of them, he makes his way to the backroom.

Hoshi goes to leave too. But Saihara's " _Wait!_ " makes him reconsider, and he turns, listlessly, to face the Detective. "Got something to say to me?"

Saihara seems to almost steel himself before saying, "Hoshi-kun, I can't claim to know what you're thinking... but you told me that training with us won't help. Is it because... we're in Monokuma's killing game? Is that why you're so hesitant to find a reason to live?"

Hoshi sighs. "You nearly got it." He goes to stand before Saihara. For a second he debates on opening up, when his efforts have been so against it. But maybe... maybe it would be a good thing.

"My enemy, as you call it... isn't whether or not I care about living." Hoshi looks away. "It's a matter of loss.

"I've lost so much already. Everyone I cared about was taken away, and avenging them did nothing but empty my heart further. And if I do find someone else to care about, in or out of this school... what if I lose them too? Or," Hoshi adds, "what if me dying causes them grief? Murder, execution, death row... they all end with someone suffering."

He looks at him. "Tell me, Saihara... could you bear the idea of dying and leaving Momota in grief? In this sort of situation, where anything is possible... would you allow that sort of emotional burden?"

Saihara bites his lip. "I... wouldn't want that for anyone. After all, I've been on the receiving end of that loss, with Akamatsu-san..."

Hoshi shakes his head. "You barely knew each other, yet you two had a strong bond anyway... So strong it broke you."

"Even so," Saihara says. "I'm glad I got to meet Akamatsu-san at all. Even though she's gone, she still lives on in my memories. Now... it's my job to uphold her wish. And if Momota-kun did die, I would keep his wish alive, too." Saihara takes a deep breath. "I... I would try to live for their sakes. Because that's the wish they both have, for all of us. To escape this killing game together."

Hoshi can't help but see resolve in the Detective's eyes, faint but present, and smiles. "Escaping together... that really isn't a bad option."

Saihara smiles back, if not awkwardly. "You know, Hoshi-kun, your logic, about wanting to live but being too afraid to get close to others... reminds me of Momota-kun's own messed-up logic."

Hoshi expects to be offended, but instead finds himself chuckling. "I guess you have a point. Still... I'm not changing my mind about my motive video. If there's someone, something, outside waiting for me, I need to know. Of course... to escape with you persistent bastards."

"Does that mean you'll train with us from now on?"

"... Hmph. Don't push your luck."

He leaves then, their conversation replaying in his mind.

_The enemy you're facing... maybe you can face it by getting stronger. With Momota-kun and I._

Is he ready for that? To get attached to people in a killing game. To risk feeling and inspiring the pain of loss, of disappointment...

Then again.

Then again, that logic... could be the sort that training can get rid of.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hoshi finds himself automatically walking to the courtyard, remembering something about pushups under the stars, when he sees Momota dart out of the dormitories with a panicked look.

"Hoshi," he yells upon spotting him, "holy shit, you've gotta run! Run before he gets you!"

Before Hoshi can ask  _who_ , a familiar figure thunders nearby. Hoshi nearly goes slack jawed at the aura emanating from their resident Entomologist, who looks ready to kill anything he sets his sights on. "Come on, Hoshi!" Momota yells, and Hoshi darts after him without much complaint.

He actually outruns Momota as they escape from Gokuhara's clutches. Swiftly, they hide around the side of the school. "You... run pretty... fast," Momota gasps, bent over his knees as he catches his breath. "Guess I should've expected that... from the SHSL Tennis Pro..!"

Hoshi peers around the area. "Why is Gokuhara chasing after us?"

"Hell if I know, but I warned Shuuichi before I ran into you." Momota groans. "Man, I hope makes it! Otherwise he's gonna get captured! O-Or killed!"

"Seriously?" Hoshi huffs. "With the conversation we held today, that would be ironic..."

Momota perks up. "Oh yeah! He said that you'd be more willing to train with us from now on!" He bumps his fists. "I dunno what Shuuichi said to you but I'm super hyped! Soon we'll be facing each other on the court!"

"Quieten down," Hoshi warns.

"Hey, don't be a killjoy. Come on, loosen up! You're finally opening up to us... About damn time, too..."

"You really are persistent," Hoshi says. "But I guess... I'm being persistent in my own way."

Momota blinks at him. "That's — wow. Man, I guess you're really — H-HEY!"

"Gonta found you," Gokuhara rumbles, snatching the back cuff of Momota's jacket and raising the Astronaut up in the air. At an impressive height. Hoshi almost feels sorry.

Sorry enough to try and help, when Momota yells, "Hoshi, run! Save yourself! I'm — h-hey, at least hold me properly, dammit!" he adds as he starts slipping out of his other sleeve. "G-Geez, lemme go already!"

"But this is for everyone's sake," Gokuhara says, "so Gonta can't let you... Hey, where are you going?"

" _Wow, he sure can run fast!_ " is the last thing Hoshi hears before he dashes far, far away, his tiny feet gasping against the cold concrete.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's nearly midnight when Hoshi returns to his room, satisfied that nobody will come knocking on his door.

He throws himself on his bed and mulls about today. Really... it's the most he's spoken in a long time. Hoshi remembers the resolve in Saihara's eyes and wonders if the feeling in his chest, the unmistakable jealousy, is enough for him to swallow his words and surrender to their training regime.

It seems everybody has someone out there. Even Ouma, the troublemaker he is, has an actual organisation waiting for him.

Hoshi remembers the Supreme Leader's motive video with the same lingering disbelief... quickly replaced with alarm when he realises that the Monokubpad he left on his couch, isn't there anymore.

In a quiet frenzy he starts looking around his room, a part of him knowing how useless it would be, he's not touched the video ever since yesterday, someone then, must've stolen it—

Then a tile is lifted and a green, metallic  _thing_  enters his view.

"HELLO," the Monokub beeps.

Hoshi stares.

"YOU–ARE–HOSHI–RYOMA,CORRECT?"

"I... am."

Satisfied, the Monokub waddles over and hands him... a Monokubpad.

"THIS–WAS–THE–MOTIVE–VIDEO–YOU–RECEIVED. YOUR–CLASSMATE–STOLE–IT–AND–ALL–OTHERS...I–AM–RETURNING–THEM,SO–IT–IS–FINE."

Hoshi narrow his eyes. "Who stole them?"

"I–HAVE–BEEN–TOLD–IT–WAS–OUMA–KOKICHI."

Hmph. Figures. "Then he knows who owns them. He knows... who has my motive video."

"REST–ASSURED,I–HAVE–RETURNED–YOURS–TO–ITS–RIGHTFUL–OWNER," the Monokub beeps.

Hoshi looks at him sharply. "Then you know who has it."

The Monokub suddenly grows quiet, paws bumped together reluctantly. "Look," Hoshi says, in a mildly softer tone, "I need to know what's in my video. If I can have a motive to live... I can think about escaping here, with everyone. I can consider... taking that risk."

"...SO–IT–IS–TO–GET–ALONG–WITH–EVERYBODY." The Monokub nods. "IF–THAT–IS–THE–CASE...THEN–THE–PERSON–WHO–HAS–YOUR-VIDEO,IS–MOMOTA–KAITO."

"... Is that so."

"YES."

"... Thanks. I'll talk to him right now."

The weight of his walk is slow. When he gets there Hoshi rings the intercom, and he says, as soon as the door opens, as soon as Momota's figure comes into view, "Give it."

"What?"

"My motive video," Hoshi says. "I want to see it. No... I  _need_  to see it."

Something passes over Momota's face. "You can't," he says. It pisses Hoshi off.

"Why not? You want me to find a reason to live, right?"

"Hoshi... you won't find it in there."

"Why not?" Hoshi challenges. "Because it's here, with you guys? Why won't you show it to me?" His gaze darkens. "Are you afraid I'll kill someone, if I know who's waiting for me out there?"

"That's not what I fucking meant—"

"You — everyone — you don't need a motive video to tell you escape, for someone else's sake. Me? I have no idea. None... That's why I need to see it."

Gaze defiant, the Astronaut stands his ground. "Momota," Hoshi says lowly, "give it to me."

"Hoshi, I can't, I fucking can't — hey!"

If there's one thing playing tennis lent him, it was speed. Height never mattered, not with expert footwork. No matter how thunderous Momota is, he can't beat Hoshi, who sidesteps him easily. Who reaches for the Monokubpad on his bed.

Hoshi watches it.

... He doesn't need to watch for very long.

"Hoshi," Momota says. Then he — the  _bastard_ , he kneels down before him. "I know. It sucks that you don't have a special someone out there. Monokuma's a piece of shit for leading you on like that... But you've got us, yeah? Me, Shuuichi, everybody else here! I've been telling you, all this time... You keep beating yourself up, like you don't deserve to live or something... But Hoshi!" Momota raises a fist, knuckles whiter than white. "If you keep obsessing over the past, you'll never be able enjoy the present! Life's short! But dammit... you're meant to live it!"

Life's short.

It really is... so short.

Hoshi drops his motive video. Hides his glare under his beanie, and says, "You don't get it at all.

"Yelling at someone to move on, like it's so easy... It might have worked on Saihara, but for a guy like me... I didn't lose a friend I barely knew. I lost everything. You don't understand that."

He starts walking away. Footsteps light and airy.

"Keeping this from me... is just uncool." He clenches his hands. "Really... it only makes me trust you even less."

Hoshi leaves. He doesn't look back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Life's so short.

It's so, so short.

"Hey~ you can't do that! We're still in the middle of the show, you know!"

Eating with friends. Having fun. Escaping with them...

"B-But at this rate, Yumeno-san is going to be attacked by piranhas and—! Wait, huh..?"

Is it enough to live for those sorts of things... when they come and go, quick like a serve?

"Y-YUMENO-SAN!" Chabashira yells, as the timer reaches zero, as DEATH flashes in wicked red, as piranhas fall into the tank, as Gokuhara hauls something, someone, up from the water, onto the stage, where he now supports a very wet, very pale-faced Yumeno.

"Yumeno-san!" Chabashira yells again.

Is he ready for that? To get attached to people in a killing game...

"Wh-What is going on?" Shirogane stammers.

To risk feeling and inspiring the pain of loss, of disappointment...

 

 

* * *

 

 

Saihara is dead.

Yumeno confesses immediately, about the trick hidden in the tank. She didn't use it, she never planned to use it, her magic is real. It's real, and that's why she couldn't get out of the tank, because Saihara's corpse was stuffed into the stairway that was meant to be an escape route.

The Body Discovery Announcement blares. Hoshi can't move.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Now that Shuuichi's gone, we've gotta work extra hard in his stead, okay?"

There's a certain seriousness to him that doesn't go unnoticed, but Momota, ever the obnoxious one, still tramples around, instructing Hoshi throughout the investigation. Without consent. Without fail.

... Persistent bastard.

Hoshi helps him anyway. Even as Momota bumbles in the trial. Outmatched by the more smarter members of their group, he defends Hoshi without consent, without fail, with that messed-up logic he's so fond of preaching.

Then again.

Then again, that logic...

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even if Toujou was the culprit, Hoshi can't help but admire her determination to live. Even if she killed Saihara... even as she died before his eyes.

Everybody else remaining stands apart. Momota stands unfailingly at the front, facing the elevator doors with the same defiance he always carries with him.

Even when the doors open, even when everybody moves past him, Momota stays.

A minute passes. He turns, listlessly, to face the Tennis Pro.

"Let's go train," he says.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tennis was more than a sport.

It was losing.

Losing yourself to the motions. Focusing it all on the swing, the hit, the thrum of rubber and string and muscle.

Hoshi watches the ball floating in the air. A spot of green that falls closer, and closer. And then he swings. He hits. The ball whistles over the net.

Momota glides. He returns it with a powerful stroke, stronger than any return Hoshi's ever seen from him. No hesitation. Hoshi moves to reciprocate.

He forgot this. He forgot what tennis could do — can do. Even though it reminds him of what he lost, what he gained and what could have been, what should have been... tennis was — still is, a way of forgetting time, and place, and pain.

Focus on the swing.

Focus on the hit.

The ball curves weirdly towards him. A junkball, Hoshi realises. His lips curl as he returns it.

The ball drops abruptly on the other side of the net.

"Fifteen love," he says. "You still have a ways to go, but you're getting there."

Momota wipes the sweat on his brow. "Shut up, Ryoma."

"I'm just training you." Hoshi picks up a spare ball and adds, "Have some patience for once."

 

 

 

 

 

They play into the night.

 


End file.
